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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027964">Sitting and Spinning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hiveswap</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ficlet, Other, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Tagora is a good friend and Mallek's hoodie is a universal constant, Wordcount: 500-1.000, gender neutral reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:08:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You wake up at Tyzias's hive, and she falls asleep.</p><p>Posting from my Tumblr for archival reasons.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tyzias Entykk/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sitting and Spinning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>The world is bleary around the edges when you wake up with pressure to your skull.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Unlike most skull related pressures, though, this one is pleasant. Pressed to the skin with care, soft and pliant. It’s a kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sit upright, a paper stuck to your cheek and your moirail stuck in her notes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You had a nightmare,” Tyzias states this, matter of fact. “Tell me what it was about.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She turns to look at you. You finally pull the paper off of your cheek. More notes, written in a rush if the tilt and scrawl of her letters is anything to go by. Then again, all of her letters are tilted and scrawled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It was more like a memory,” you start. Though she’s currently organizing and reorganizing notes, she tilts her head and her ears your way, listening as intently as she can. “Tagora was telling me to check on you, but when I got to your hive, the door was locked.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Does Tyzias care about symbolism? You doubt your subconscious does, but maybe she’ll pick up on a little thing that’s been bothering you. Tyzias likes puzzles.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If I dreamed about sore-gore, I’d call it a nightmare, too,” she gives you a smile that barely makes a dent in the exhaustion around her eyes. “That little bulge biter, he’s really going to get it this time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“’It’ being, what exactly? A stern word? A talking to?” Tyzias doesn’t react to that, taking a sip from her mug.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You watch her move around for a while. It’s always fascinating, how someone’s movements can say so much about them. She moves quickly, fast enough that you can’t tell if she’s just anxious or if the LGBT+ fast walking joke transcends universes. She moves like she’s running out of time. And she stops slowly as if she realizes that time is exactly what the empire is taking away from her, and she’s reluctant to give any more up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You can’t help with that, but you can make a mean cup of tea. It doesn’t escape your notice that Tyzias has the same hot beverage machine that Tagora gifted you. Seems like sore-gore is more like... cares for-gor these days.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Once the tea is steeped to perfection, your hands are nice and warm and primed for some sweet, sweet moiraillegiance. She’s already sitting on the couch; the next part is easy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her hands are around the mug if only by habit. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tea.” She states this too, with a slight air of disbelief. But she sips at it anyway, her face softening, the lines of stress becoming less deep.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re going to make a great legislacerator, with skillful deductions like those.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sit and spin,” she makes at you what you’ve come to understand as a rude hand gesture. But for all of that, you watch her slowly curl in on her warm cup of tea. She folds in on herself, exhausted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You give her some space; after all, Tyzias’s winding down process takes some extra time these days.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was wondering!” You call from her kitchen. She grunts at you. You’re wiping the mug, ready to fill it with fresh water from her office-style water cooler. One of many she keeps around the hive.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You sit beside her, placing her mug, now filled with cool water, on a coaster patterned with flowers and encouraging statements. A clear gift from her matesprit; you make a note to call Stelsa later.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why do you only kiss me when I’m sleeping?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But as you look over to Tyzias, you see that she’s fallen asleep. So you brush her hair back from her forehead, wrap her securely in her hoodie, and then kiss her once on the skin of her forehead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s only fair.</p>
</div>
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